Hardest Shots
by Lowland Warrior
Summary: Brick always thought that there is a certain honor in waging war. But that belief is greatly questioned when the enemy presents him a target even the most battle-hardened warriors can't easily bring themselves to shoot. 'TWO-SHOT'
1. Painted It Red

**Hardest Shots**

**Ten hut!**

**After having seen the movie American Sniper (And even before that, the trailer of said movie), 1 scene in general inspired me to write this one-shot, starring Brick. If you like it and you're lucky, I might even make it a two-shot.**

**Take note that I have fairly little expertise on army procedures and tactics. And as such, they might make little to no sense.**

**Big credit for Snakeshark123 and Applauze for helping me out where it was needed! Which puts me even deeper in debt with them!**

**This one is definitely rated capital T for violence, cursing and implied gore. I only hope this still keeps it on T. Or else I might risk having this story removed.**

* * *

Do you know what the hardest targets to shoot are? Moving targets? Invisible Targets? Highly unpredictable targets? No, targets that can't bring yourself to shoot. Targets which you aren't supposed to have your crosshairs on.

There was a time that the thrill of war appealed to me, but the day I learnt about targets, was also the day that thrill made room for grief.

* * *

Stepping out of the plane, I was greeted by a incredibly humid air and a scorching sun, I had finally arrived in the capital of Nigeria. I was sent out to help the national army fight against a terrorist group who were threatening the peace and stability of the whole country and were approaching the capital. The group started out in 2002, and although I'm sure the Nigerian Army did everything it could, the terrorists were gaining the upper hand right now in 2024. So an international coalition was formed to push the terrorists back and maybe even completely defeat them. And as Canada is part of that coalition, I was sent out on my first serious tour of duty!

I was always fascinated by the army. Not so much because of the battle, but because of the teamwork and the camarade I feel there is. And maybe it's also that you do this not to make a profit, but to help other people or defend your own. That thought alone makes it all worthwhile.

It took of hard training, even after I went through cadet school, to be admitted into what may just be the most prestigious task force in the Canadian military. I was sent out before, but that was a peacekeeping operation in the Middle East. Here I expect to get involved in serious combat situations. Still, I have little reason to be nervous, because aside from my trust in my training, I was trained to be a sniper and I mostly have to oversee other troops as recon places. Sniping wasn't exactly what I wanted to do, but the drill instructor found me to have remarkable skill, and what the instructor says, goes.

''Corporal McArthur!'' Someone called out to me as I left the plane and was directed away from the other soldiers by the shout. I looked over to the sound and spotted a middle aged man approaching me. He was a staff sergeant, 2 ranks above mine.

''Reporting Sir!'' I enthusiastically barked back at my superior. Saluting and calling him sir as a matter of politeness, as I'm officially not required to do so.

''Welcome in Abuja corporal. I am staff sergeant Pepper Hartman.'' He replied, saluting me back before we back walked away from the plane. [1]

''How's the situation?'' I asked.

''Well, everything but love is in the air corporal! Bullets, shells. Hell, even heads!'' The sergeant loudly illustrated (To overcome the other noises at the landing strip) as we approached a stationary helicopter and climbed into it, after which we closed the doors and the helicopter took off. ''But besides that, we're making good progress on these barbarians! We're going up north, there you'll be stationed and be briefed on the situation.''

''Affirmative!'' I enthusiastically replied. Of course, Sergeant Hartman's answer sounded a bit gory, but from the stories I've heard, we were on the winning hand.

* * *

Directly after landing at a military base an hour later, the sergeant made me follow him.

''We're we going sir?'' I asked him.

''You're just in time corporal. The mission briefing just began!'' Sergeant Hartman told me after checking his watch. ''Also, that's the bunk you're sleeping in for tonight!'' He said, pointing at a barrack. Alright, it was actually just a large tent, but it had its charm.

Sergeant Hartman opened the door of a small building let us enter. In the building, a briefing was held by a lieutenant standing in front of a screen that a beamer shone on, displaying several maps and photos. A platoon of soldiers was already seated and the lieutenant had begun when we entered. I saw that every seat seemed to be occupied, so I remained standing in the back as Sergeant Hartman made his way to the screen.

''We've managed to push them back to the northeastern part of Nigeria, but that's where the hard part begins! Northeast Nigeria is where they started out and it's riddled with their bastions! Couple that with the millions of acres of jungle and we have something close to a second Vietnam on our hands! We're assigned to clear the villages of any threats that have stayed.'' The sergeant explained, pointing at several maps and pictures displayed on a screen with a laser pointer before he switched the laser pointer and the projector off.

''Take in consideration that every man still in the villages is most likely a hostile and take extreme caution!'' He sternly warned us.

They could've left, but they stayed behind and choose to fight us. At least I don't have to worry about feeling guilty for shooting them. I have had no trouble killing someone in the past, but that were insurgents. I luckily never had to shoot someone who isn't supposed to be shot, like innocents. I was trained to overcome that natural rejection, but I sometimes doubt if I could make the shot when it's time.

''Troops go from door to door to search buildings while a sniper covers the convoy from 1 of the many rooftops. The snipers are accompanied by a soldier to guard and if needed, assist them. Rogers, you get private Keane.'' The lieutenant called out, pointing at another elite troop beside me, who nodded his head slightly. ''Donnelly, your buddy is DuPont and McArthur, you're paired up with Hayden!'' He announced to me, I saluted until I saw a red-haired soldier in the crowd rise slightly and look back at me, who turned out to be Scott, to both our surprise. I haven't seen him in all these years and he still looks about the same as I remember him, without the trauma chair that is.

''We leave early morning! Briefing dismissed.'' The lieutenant called before almost everyone made their way out of the tent. I waited outside until Scott came out.

''Scott, what are you doing in the army?'' I asked him a little surprised when he managed to get out as I walked alongside through over the base. ''You don't strike me as someone who'd join so easily!''

''Eh, it runs in the family.'' Scott shrugged.

''So it does with mine! My great-grandfather even fought in world war 2!'' I proudly told him as I tried to keep up with him, because he walked at a pretty fast pace.

''Well, I don't want it to run in the family. Put it like that! But it's still better than risking the slammer for cooking meth.'' He bitterly explained as we neared the barrack that was assigned to me and Scott opened the door.

''Why not?'' I asked him after I found an empty bed and hung my sniper on the wall above it and laid my bag down, much to Scott's surprise.

''Ah, this is your barrack too? Perfect.'' Scott grunted as he sat down on his bed.

''Why wouldn't you be proud of being in the army? Fighting for your country! Fighting for others in need! And helping-'' I patriotically said as I sat down on my bed.

''Fighting for your country?'' Scott cynically repeated. ''We're only fighting here so that the oligarchs and business leaders keep their huge cashflow steady! That's nothing to be proud of!'' He venomously interrupted me, shooting up from his bed.

''I don't understand.'' I confusedly replied.

''Have you ever wondered why we're only now fighting that terrorist group while it's been around since 2002?'' Scott cynically asked me.

''I haven't thought about it yet no.'' I responded after thinking about it shortly.

''Oil, that is the reason Brick.'' Scott answered his own question. ''You see, Nigeria is the biggest exporter of oil in Africa. With a terrorist group, whose hatred for western society is only passed by the number of weapons at their disposal, on the verge of overthrowing the current government, the oil barons may just lose their next biggest source of oil now that the Middle East is almost sucked dry. If they can't get any oil, they have to raise the prices for gasoline and related products incredibly.'' Scott formulated as he laid down on the ground and did a few pushups.

''Why's that?'' I asked him a little puzzled.

''Because you know the common oil baron, if 50 dollar bills don't flow out of their taps and their toilets aren't made of solid gold, it's not worth shitting in for them.''

''That doesn't make any sense! You're saying that we only declared war on them because of some rich people!'' I disgustedly said.

''It are not just the corporate fat cats Brick.'' Scott wilily countered before he finished his pushups and stood up. ''If the gasoline prices rise, other prices go up with it. That's called inflation, and that's very bad for the economy! And with that in mind, haven't you noticed that most wars in the past 30 years were fought in areas that export lots of oil?'' Scott suspiciously asked. I wanted to answer, but I wasn't sure how to. ''That's 1 of the many reasons terrorists like these hate the west, because we can be so fucking greedy.'' Scott moodily concluded before he left the tent.

I remained sitting on my bed to think about Scott's speech. I think it was just Scott's negative outlook on rich people that made him think this, but I had to admit that it did make some sense. Were we really here to defeat the terrorists only now because the oil export was at risk? Is that really how the armies work these days?

* * *

The next morning, Scott and I were setting up on a rooftop overlooking the central square of a village, where I, as instructed, had to oversee a convoy consisting of troops and a SUV going from door to door. This was a favorable position because we set up right behind a façade, providing us with ample cover while I still could shoot through the decorative holes.

''To hell with all these mosquitoes.'' Scott grumbled. I could see him swat in the air from the corner of my eye while I set up my rifle. ''If we're not getting shot, we might as well get malaria!'' He complained.

''You've got your shots as well right?'' I asked before laying down and peeking through the scope and kept a eye on the area. Below us, I could hear the convoy smash open a door.

''There's no guarantee that they'll work!'' Scott remarked as I saw a small car swiftly coming from around a corner far away and speeding towards the convoy. This is trouble. The driver is probably a suicide bomber driving a rigged car.

''Bravo, there's a suspected hostile in a car driving at great speeds towards the convoy.'' I warned the nearest command post through my headset as I saw the remaining soldiers outside taking aim. I peeked through my scope and saw the determined looking driver holding a hand grenade which was bound to explode once he'd let go. ''I can confirm that he holds a live hand grenade!'' I announced.

''Eliminate him.'' The woman on the other side ordered, after which the soldiers below us began shooting at the car, and while they managed to hit the windshield, the driver was swaying around lightly and this made it very hard to shoot them.

I focused and breathed in deeply while aiming. When I could hear my heart beat, I waited for a moment between beats and pulled the trigger. I got a headshot on the driver, after which his body went limb and the car crashed into a building meters away from the square. Seconds later, the car exploded, probably because of the grenade.

''Threat neutralized.'' I said through the headset, after which the convoy below eased up again.

''Wow, you've shot his brain clean out of his skull!'' Scott complimented me after having watched the car through a pair of binoculars.

''Don't compliment me. I'm only doing what has to be done.'' I grumbled before I ejected the bullet. Contrary to some of my fellow snipers at boot camp, I'm not quick to shoot someone and I especially don't take any pride in it. It's permanent, so you must be able to account for every shot. That's why I must be sure that the target is a hostile before I pull the trigger.

''And the peace returns in this poor hellhole.'' Scott concluded after the soldiers resumed checking houses.

''Not everyone's having it as good as us in Canada, Scott.'' I calmly reasoned with him.

''Not if most of your leaders are dirty as grime, indeed.'' Scott cynically responded. I rolled my eyes and kept my eyes out on the square as it remained silent for some time.

''Who was your first kill?'' Scott eventually asked me, breaking the silence.

''A protester in the Dominican Republic during that uprising took place some years ago. We were sent as order troops and had to guard 1 of the roads to the presidential palace. I had to kill him because he got too close to the barricade despite several warnings.'' I explained a little remorseful.

''Your virgin kill was a protester? That doesn't sound like the honorable Brick I know.'' Scott replied.

''It was a hard shot to make. But it turned out he had a bomb with him so that means tha-'' I tried to say until I spotted someone through my scope. He stood on a nearby rooftop and was eyeing the convoy while calling.

''Bravo, I see a male on a rooftop some houses away from the convoy making a phone call.'' I immediately informed the command base while keeping my crosshair aimed at him.

''Take him if you think he's plotting against us. Your choice.'' She responded.

''What are you waiting for? Do it!'' Scott encouraged me as he watched through his binoculars again. The man then eventually disappeared behind the other buildings. ''Why didn't you shoot him? He was a sitting duck!'' Scott complained as the other soldiers came out of a building and advanced through the square.

''We didn't know for sure if he was involved with the terrorists! I'm not going to be a war criminal!'' I loudly protested.

''Heh, tell that the army's torturers in Abuja! 'Interrogating' any suspects they've caught who may or may not have any involvement with the terrorists.'' Scott muttered before he leant with his back against the façade.

I saw the door of a house further down the square open, and a hooded woman and a boy who couldn't be older than 10 came walking out. I noticed that the woman held the boy close to her as they stopped walking only a few steps away from the building.

''Scott, look at them.'' I whispered at Scott after nudging him. Scott grabbed his binoculars and eyed the pair as well.

''Bravo, I'm looking at a woman and a child across the street from the convoy.'' I told command.

''You know the drill, shoot them if you have to.'' Was the response I got. Naturally, I didn't just yet. Maybe they were just unnerved by the presence of the military.

''Brick, look!'' Scott called, pointing at the duo. I peeked through my scope and saw that the woman was about to hand something to the boy. She dug her hands through her robes and eventually…

…She retrieved a large grenade and handed it to the boy, who hid it under his shirt.

My eyes shot wide open, I began to sweat and my heart started beating like crazy. Were these terrorists about to send in a child to bomb the convoy?! Barbarians! I don't think I can kill a child! But if she sends the kid the other way, I'm not required to kill him. But judging by the way things look right now, I have to.

''This is nasty.'' Scott said as we both watched the mother talking to the child.

''Bravo, I can confirm that the child carries a bomb.'' I nervously announced.

''Take him out.'' She responded right before the child ran towards the convoy, who were too busy searching a house to really notice the boy.

They want me to really kill a child?! He can't be older than 10. This isn't his war. He isn't supposed to be involved in this!

''Brick, take the shot.'' Scott urged me as I could see the boy coming closer and closer to the convoy as well.

''I can't! They're using their own children as weapons!'' I told Scott in utter panic.

''That's because they could brainwash the locals in any way they pleased for the last 10 years! This is part of their strategy to work on your feelings. Now take the shot!'' Scott ordered.

''I simply can't!'' I sighed in defeat.

''Brick, let him blow up the squad and we're both going to military court!'' Scott warned me dead serious, after which Scott took his assault rifle and tried to aim at the kid. ''If you're not doing it, I will!'' He threateningly assured me.

I don't think they'd understand my objections of refusing the shoot the kid when it weights against several dead soldiers. So Scott's right, I have no choice. I pledged to protect my people, and I will. The last thing I can do for this boy is giving him a clean and quick death. I aimed, but because of my twitching and my heartbeat, it was very hard to aim for his head. And then I pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight to the boy's torso, after which it penetrated his shirt and knocked the boy back a little before he suddenly exploded, startling me and Scott greatly.

I began to whimper and shake as I realized that I hit the bomb! I couldn't spare the boy and now I didn't even give him a painless end to his short life!

''No!'' I briefly shouted in pure anguish as I shot up and looked at the gory mess at the square. The boy's guts laid spread over the place! On the very spot the kid stood was nothing left but a small crater. I hung my head over the edge and wretched. This was too much to bare for me as I eventually vomited.

''Oh my holy hell.'' Scott muttered, probably taken aback as well by the mess as I panted deeply. ''Brick, don't forget that you did the right thing.'' Scott tried to assure me, patting me on my back.

''Don't touch me!'' I viciously barked at him, after which Scott flinched back a little. ''Having done the right thing doesn't make his death any less gory!'' I hissed.

Scott is right. These terrorists try to send out their children and hope that we can't get ourselves to kill them before they kill us! I can't fathom that these people fight this war for the good of their people, because sending out kids make it look like that the end justify the means! I'm not used to this views of war. In my opinion, if war can't be avoided, fight it as honorable as you can. I can't even believe that people fight wars like this!

Why did the world do nothing when they knew these monsters began to use boys as running explosives? If these men want me to kill any more children, then I can't do this anymore. I'm going home as soon as possible. And I don't care whether I get dishonorably discharged or not. It can't be any more dishonorable than being here.

* * *

**At ease Brick. You need it.**

**[1] References both a song by the Beatles and a character from the move Full Metal Jacket.**

**I'm sorry if the ending looks a little rushed or incomplete (In regards to Scott's cynicism of the war), but I do need to set it up to potentially be a two-shot. I already have ample ideas what should happen (And with who)!**

**I used several scenes from the movie mentioned above in this story while trying to be as spoiler-less as possible for those who still have to see it.**

**After writing this, I came to the conclusion that maybe I should write emotional pieces more often!**

**Until the next update (Of any given story)!**

**: ),**

**L.W.**


	2. Veteran Of Psychological Wars

**Hardest Shots**

**Turns out, I made it a two-shot whether people even knew this story existed or not!**

**Applauze: Well, I didn't put down a Duncan X Courtney tag, so in that case, reviews are hard to come by! Well, writing his POV isn't so hard (For Brick, keep him optimistic and honorable, but also sensitive to other emotions, especially sadness.), but I was afraid that I'd use speech verbs (I hope I said that right) that are a tad too intelligent-sounding for Brick. Other than that, job well done delivering some inspiration to you!**

**Not much to say here, I got inspired to make this one-shot a two-shot, and I hope I didn't disappoint.**

**Still rated T, but not as capital as the previous chapter (Not by a long shot). Still be on the lookout for any strong language though.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Veteran Of Psychological Wars**

* * *

It were 3 hard months, but I was finally back in Canada. I was shattered, both physically and mentally. The image of that boy kept on haunting my thoughts. About how gruesome his death was, and what would've went through his head before I blew it to pieces! My companions can only be happy that I was still able to protect them.

I sat in the plane, waiting for it to touch down. In front of me stood a casket with a Canadian flag laid over it. He was part of the convoy I had to guard, and he didn't make it. He was dangerously hit by another sniper, and while I could kill him, the feelings of revenge couldn't save the private. He died on the way to the hospital. I imagine what his family could be like, was he a father? Was he perhaps about to become a father?

I frowned intensely as I started at the flag. I get angry, but I feel tears welling up in my eyes as well. He died because greedy people wanted us to go at war! I can't believe there are people in the world so soulless, so evilly egoistical! They make money over the backs of dead people and shattered families, communities! They start wars to serve their own goals instead of doing it for the greater good! I gritted my teeth and grunted furiously, I've lost all trust in my government and in the highest military superiors. I also lost faith, faith in that there can be a glimmer of honor and respect in such dark times as war.

* * *

Hours later, the plane touched down on a base in the Rockies. I solemnly placed my hand on the casket before I lightly patted it.

''You've done what you could private, I'm proud of you.'' I proudly, quietly mumbled before I stood up and stretched my back until I heard a loud crack. After sitting 12 hours in the same position, too numbed by the past 3 months to care to move a little, that's what happens. Several soldiers appeared to carry the casket to another door of the plane for its repatriation ceremony.

The backdoor opened and I stepped towards the opening, feeling the cool mountain breeze blow into my face. It fell nice, and it was nice to feel something nice again after all this time. But enjoying it had to wait for a little longer, as I had duties to fulfill, among the last I believe in.

I stood in line with the other present troops and saluted as the casket was lowered out of the plane and carried to a hearse a little further down the runway under the accompaniment of bagpipes music. When the coffin was in the hearse, the bagpipe music ceased and we stopped saluting as some people and a priest approached the hearse. I believe that that were his family members. I'd like to stick around and try to console them a bit, but I don't think that I, the man who couldn't save their son, brother or father, can do that, so I left.

''Welcome back corporal!'' A gruff voice greeted me, yet with a kind undertone. I turned my head in the right direction and saw Jo approaching me before she pulled me in a tight hug. Jo had cut her hair even shorter and wore a pale green nylon jacket and black cargo pants, something different from the usual tracksuits and sweatpants.

Jo had become my girlfriend over the past years and we've been living together in nearby Burnaby. I'd really love to call her my wife, but she has something against marrying. I think it's because she hates dresses. She has pretty much remained the same, she hardly ever gets affectionate, but she always teases me in an affectionate way.

''How're you?'' She asked me. I didn't say anything and sadly glanced over at the hearse leaving the runway. Jo wasn't so good with subtle messages, but I do hope she caught on to that.

''Brick, you know I'm terrible with stuff like this. What do you-'' Jo tried to console me.

''It's okay.'' I calmly cut her off before we both left.

She wasn't so good with consoling either.

We passed the memorial standing at the entrance of the base. I stopped walking alongside Jo and eyed the monument.

''Are you going to salute it or what?'' Jo asked me, sounding a little bit humored.

''No, not today.'' I dismissively responded while shaking my head before stomping towards the car. Which surprised Jo greatly as she knows that I always salute this monument when I pass it to pay my respects to the army and those who died for it. But now it means nothing to me anymore.

* * *

Jo was driving to our home while I stared out of the window, thinking about that day that changed everything. I spotted a gas station at the side of the highway, and I frowned at the clear sight of its rising prices.

I often thought over Scott's words about how oil determined where and when terrorists were fought so that western nations could keep control over their economies. And the longer I thought about it, the more sense it made until I came to the conclusion that Scott was right. We were sent out to Nigeria to battle the terrorists, but only because they threatened the economy of the west, not because they use children as bombs

''So Brick, how was your tour?'' Jo asked, breaking the silence and pulling me out of my thoughts as she softly stomped my shoulder.

''I still live.'' I plainly answered, I didn't feel like telling the whole story, as Jo can be bitterly chiding of my emotions.

''I can see that! But I want details!'' Jo eagerly demanded. ''Like, how was it to kill your first terrorist?'' She curiously asked, bearing a bright smile.

''My first terro-'' I quietly muttered, not being able to finish my sentence before I looked at Jo. She seemed so eagerly curious to hear how it was, as if it was something to be happy about! ''Don't say it like that!'' I barked at her.

''Like how?'' Jo replied very confused and a little shocked as well.

''Like it's something to be proud of!'' I continued barking.

''Easy! I often heard you say that you considered it separating the men from the boys of some sorts!'' Jo cautiously replied.

''It, is, not!'' I furiously wheezed.

''Alright okay!'' Jo defensively replied.

* * *

After having spent the remaining trip in a tense silence, Jo stopped on our driveway and I immediately grabbed my belongings and stomped into our home, a small single floor suburban house. I sat down on the couch and removed the striker from my rifle before I hung it on the wall above the fire place (To assure that I won't be shot by my own gun), moodily flung the striker in 1 of the kitchen drawers and morosely sat down at the kitchen table. [1]

''No place like home, isn't there?'' Jo breezily asked after she sat down on the opposite end of the table. After I glared back at her without saying a thing, she frowned back. ''I'll get back on it later.'' She grumbled before she left me alone.

* * *

Several days passed and I spent them mostly by brooding about how I can possibly live the rest of my life with these scars and these truths. Nothing helped me get my mind off of them, not sleep, not entertainment, and not even 1 of Jo's rare moments of night-time intimacy could distract me. It was late at night. I couldn't sleep, so I did the thing I always do when I can't sleep, sitting in the living room with the lights off and curtains open, letting the moonlight into the room.

I heard some rumbling coming from the hallway. When I left the bedroom, Jo was sound asleep (I envy her, I haven't slept well in days), so we have a burglar in our home! I picked up a lamp from the table to use as a club and sneakily approached the doorpost.

''Put the lamp down Brick, it's me.'' Jo quietly assured me as she appeared from the dark hallway into the living room.

''Oh, hey Jo.'' I calmly greeted her before I put the lamp back. ''I couldn't sleep, and-''

''I know you couldn't, because I couldn't too.'' Jo calmly cut me off as she sat down in the lazy chair. ''Because you toss and turn so much!'' She bitterly added.

''Yeah, it's crazy.'' I numbly agreed, sitting down on the couch.

Jo sighed deeply before she leant towards me. ''I'll be honest Brick. I'm worried sick about you.'' Jo admitted in a gruff yet caring way that only Jo can. ''At first, I thought that you were just touchy because of the long trip. But you've did almost nothing but sitting around the past few days and you got incredibly furious when there was a news report on the war in Nigeria!'' She recounted the past few days.

''I'm fine!'' I denied.

''No you're not! If you were fine Brick, you would curiously note everything down about it, do push ups, and prepare for when they call you up for a next tour and all that!'' Jo countered. ''But you just spent the last few days glooming. What is wrong with you Brick? What happened in Africa?'' She asked as concernedly as she possibly could.

As worried as Jo is, I can't keep it away from her.

''I've...Seen and learnt some things that made me lose faith in the army.'' I cautiously admitted.

''How could you out of all people lose faith in the army?'' Jo asked me rather puzzled.

''I'll tell you that.'' I announced before I shifted a little. ''During my first days, I was tasked to overlook and protect a convoy scouting a village. I had barely killed a hostile when all of a sudden...'' I paused to gulp as I noticed it was getting hard to say it. ''...A mother and a boy no older than 10 come out of a house.'' I continued.

''So?''

''That boy carried a bomb, so I had to shoot him!'' I loudly replied, which shocked Jo a little. '' I thought, 'I give him a painless death', but I was shaking so much that the shot was off and I instead hit the bomb he carried! It exploded in his grasp and the bloody remains were spread all over!'' I explained as I buried my face in my hand palms and began to bawl. ''They use children as their weapons! And I cannot bring myself to kill them! I'm afraid I might give them the same treatment and also because I'm afraid it'll make me a bad person!'' I added, slowly beginning to sob as Jo did something unexpected, she sat down next to me and gently rocked me.

''Is that why you lost faith? Because you had to kill him and ended up doing so in a incredible brute way?'' Jo asked. I glared at her as I found that she asked it really brutish, but I did realize that she didn't mean any wrong with it.

''That too. Because I could not believe that those terrorists would use their own children as weapons!'' I continued as I calmed down again. ''Then I wondered why no one stopped them earlier, and then I was told by Scott, who had to guard me-''

''Wait, THE Scott we all used to know and hate?'' Jo cut me off rather puzzled.

''Yes, it was that Scott.'' I explained. ''Anyway, he told me that we only went to war with them because they threatened the oil supplies and the western economies, and I can't help but thinking that he's right. Why wouldn't we have stopped them earlier then if it wasn't for the oil? And because of going to war to serve economical goals instead of helping people, I lost faith.'' I finished, I looked at Jo and she was glaring at me.

''Unbelievable.'' Jo quietly chided, nodding her head.

''What?'' I threateningly growled. Does she still begin to chide me after all? Because I'm not in for it!

''That Scott's cynical world views made you so depressed! Did he ever say anything that isn't a lie or a narrow-minded view of his?'' Jo scolded me.

''Maybe so, but it still makes a lot of sense.'' I calmly agreed.

''Even if it does, since when did you care for what a war is fought over? I thought you cared much more about the things you hoped to achieve! You always wanted to bring peace and safety, and you tried to achieve that in Nigeria as well when you left!'' She vividly continued. ''To hell with those high officials and richers who want to wage war for oil! Doesn't it matter to you anymore what you can do for those people over there?'' Jo asked.

I thought about Jo's question for some time, standing up and pacing around the room. ''But I have duties as a soldier, I can't just deny given commands to help the locals at any time I want!'' I told Jo after turning towards her.

''You're helping them by whacking the terrorists! Who says that they don't oppress their own people?'' Jo countered, standing up from the couch.

''You're, you're right.'' I muttered, smiling weakly. ''But I can't go back to fight, what if I have to kill more kids?'' I wondered pretty downcast, after which Jo approached me and firmly placed a hand on my shoulder.

''Listen, I understand that. But those kids have been practically brainwashed! Even if you could save them, there's no telling that they'll ever get them back on the right track again.'' Jo soothed me. ''I know it sounds harsh, but it's the hard truth.''

''I know.'' I agreed, hanging my head. ''But I don't think I'll ever get-''

''I'm sure that that'll come back again.'' Jo calmly cut me off again. '' In fact, I'd feel more motivated to put a stop to them!''

''Maybe, maybe.'' I agreed again with humble optimism. ''But still.''

''And if you really want to help without fighting, you join a humanitarian squad or something.'' She added.

Despite Jo having a soldier as a boyfriend and having ample interest in the army itself, she never was really knowledgeable of it. Still, she made a solid point. I never considered joining a humanitarian unit up until now, and I like the idea, but I'm afraid seeing those people might bring back some bad memories and I hesitantly eyed Jo, who took notice.

''Tell you what, if you get patched up and go back to Nigeria with a fresh mind, I will consider marrying you!'' She genuinely promised.

I was pretty surprised to say the least. Jo never looked like she even wanted to think about marriage, and now she just promises it!

''Really?'' I asked surprised with a raised eyebrow.

''Really.'' Jo assured me.

''You're shitting me.'' I suspiciously responded.

''I am not!'' She shot back, getting pretty annoyed.

''But why?''

''Brick, despite all the teasing and the hassling I did over these years, I am convinced that you can get over this and fight with what you believe in!'' Jo firm, yet tenderly assured me, firmly rubbing the back of my head while leaning against my chest.

''So what do you say corporal? Are you ready for another tour?''

''Yes ma'am!'' I proudly barked while saluting.

And like that, I've regained my spirits! The trauma of that kid made me quick to believe Scott's cynicism. I don't know if it's true or not, but if it was, it doesn't make a difference. It doesn't matter to me anymore what my superiors want me to go to war for, what matters is how I hope to help the people and the country the war is fought! Everything looks brighter again, thanks to this new vision.

* * *

**Now that was a tough chapter to pull off!**

**[1] A nod to the movie Shooter.**

**And so this one-shot has become a two-shot! I felt like adding it because to every trauma, there's a resolve, most commonly then. In that vein, I hope you didn't mind the piece of Brick X Jo it has become, but she was the most suited candidate to get Brick up again.**

**So, this was my first short story and it provided me with a ton of experience! I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! **

**Off to the next story!**

**:D,**

**L.W.**


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